


Coffee, Peanut Butter Sandwiches, and the Dad-Quote of the Year

by AnakinTheTrashKing



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred only has so much patience for their stupidity, Bruce and Tim are so much alike, Fluff, Gen, I can't guarantee that I'll write more soooo, I have other ideas for this that will include the other batkids, I'll add more tags later, Tim Drake is Red Robin, but this is a complete one shot on its own, enjoy the unapologetic fluff, father-son bonding, for now this is complete, hopefully, look they're trying, not beta read we die like mne, sorta - Freeform, this did not go the way I intended but I like it so whatever, uhhh, when Alfred leaves everything goes to pot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 08:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20255320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnakinTheTrashKing/pseuds/AnakinTheTrashKing
Summary: Monkey see, Monkey do.Despite the fact that he tries to raise his many children right, Bruce can't seem to stop them from picking up some of his own bad habits. Tim in particular, whether from his influence or not, seems to share the particularly bad habit of a single minded work ethic that will definitely run him into the ground. So he pulls out a classic parent phrase, only to be completely ignored. It's hard being a parent.





	Coffee, Peanut Butter Sandwiches, and the Dad-Quote of the Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lurkinglurkerwholurks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurkinglurkerwholurks/gifts).

Tim pours over the case files spread on the desk and computer screens in front of him for what feels like the millionth time. He knows there is a connection between them — he feels the answer almost within his grip before it slips away yet again. Eyes dry and limbs heavy, Tim mechanically makes himself another pot of coffee. Throwing out the previous grounds and replacing them with the rest of the dry grounds from the almost empty can. His mind is still on the cases as he pours some water into the machine and presses the start button. Standing and stretching, he wills his mind to be thoughtlessly blank for a couple seconds. 

_Restart. Review what you know. Question it. Turn it around. A fresh look, a new angle. What's missing?_

Rooted in place he can feel himself slipping into an almost meditative thought process.

The sound of the Batmobile's engine echoing through the cave's tunnels jars him back into the present. Bruce had told him to go to bed before he left for patrol — and now he was back. Glancing at the computer screens, Tim sees that it is midnight. Somehow it doesn't feel like it had only been an hour, but that's okay, he thinks. He might be able to say he was just finishing some things up. But why was B back so early? Something must have happened.

Bruce slams the batmobile into its spot with a jolting stop, climbing out of the seat quickly and methodically. He rips off the cape and cowl as he storms through the cave, discarding his suit piece by piece. A trail is made by sound and sight as each part clatters to the floor, a few drops of blood filling the space in between. He registers the small form of Tim at the computer but passes him by without so much as a grunt, heading straight to the mats to systematically destroy a couple punching bags. _It is for training purposes only, of course._ Bruce thinks. _ I'm not enraged about the past couple days and nights of unsucessful search at all. Not even frustrated. Right._

The light clack of typing punctures the slim silences between the deep thuds of his punches. He smells coffee and time passes. His skin becomes slick with sweat, his arms burning, his side aching, and the metallic stench of blood still clinging to him.

More time passes and he smells coffee again. Tim stands at the edge of the mats silently offering him a mug.

"You should be asleep" he grunts, accepting the still steaming mug of coffee, hoping Tim catches his silent gratitude.

"You know none of us have an actual sleep schedule, Bruce. Besides, I was just finishing up some stuff."

"Hn." Bruce glances over to the desk around the Batcomputer. Just a brief scan of the area tells of the mayhem he is bound to find for weeks to come. A couple of extension cords are draped over and tangled through anything in their way from the work tables on the other side of the cave. They seem to power a cheap drip-coffee machine he's never seen before. Empty gallon jugs of water litter the ground under the desk and he can see the top of a large can of pre-ground coffee peaking out over the top of the trash bin. "How many cases?"

"Oh, just a couple old ones..." Tim attempts to hedge. Bruce's glare slides from the desk to Tim, catching Tim's equally unimpressed gaze. "Ok, so it was 37. I lost track of time!"

"You lo- Tim, I was gone for two days! Did you eat or sleep at all since I left? You just finished getting over the flu _last week._ I promised Alfred I'd make sure you stayed healthy until he got ba- I was gone for two days. It's the 21st. Alfred's back and bound to be down for post-patrol check-in at any moment."

As if on cue they hear the sound of the grandfather clock sliding away to allow Alfred entrance into the cave. The telltale tap of his even, measured steps down the stairs tell of his purpose to take stock of any situation that may be at hand. A single eyebrow rises at the sight of them and Tim imagines he and Bruce must have the looks of two children caught sneaking out of bed late at night. Alfred holds their gaze for a few long seconds, face unchanging but the feeling of disappointment thickening in the air.

"I trust between the two of you, you can sort out that wound and tidy up this mess. Miss Gordon has already informed me that the others have checked in and will not be returning to the manor tonight. Kindly retire upstairs as soon as you are finished. Dinner will be available in the kitchen. Good night Master Bruce, Master Tim." Without another word he turns on his heel and returns upstairs.

It is not for the first time that Tim reflects on the similarities between the patterns of split-second observation and conclusion shared by Bruce and Alfred.

Bruce heaves a sigh and turns to him. "Tim, the work you do is amazing. But you can't just not eat or sleep for as long as you do. It's not healthy."

"I can't- It's not healthy?! Bruce, when is the last time you ate or slept? I've seen you go weeks eating and sleeping the bare minimum! A couple nights of missed sleep isn't going to kill me!"

_Ah,_ Tim thinks. _ Wrong word choice._ Perhaps the lack of rest is getting to him after all. He watches as Bruce's face flits through several emotions before the walls slam down. Knowing Bruce as he does, he could probably say word for word what is going through his mind. Although, the conversation is nothing new, so it isn't a large leap to assume Bruce is speeding through the lines of previous arguments they've had, searching for the reasoning point that would finally win him the argument. But it is a stalemate. It always is. And, as always, Tim follows each micro expression with his eyes, feeling once more that he will never see what he hopes for. This time too, the recognition without surprise, the frustration bordering on anger because of a bad night —or nights apparently— and, _Ah! there it is! The flicker of disappointment, right before he forces his face into a neutral but exhausted form._  
The disappointment stings as much as it ever did, but he pushes it down with everything else, reminding himself that this isn't about him. This is about Batman. One man can't do all of this on his own, and that's why Tim is helping. _Why can't Bruce ever see that?_

Bruce lets out a long breath, almost silently— as close as he can get to a deep sigh while in "Batman mode". The fingers of his left hand press to the bridge of his nose, while his right arm crosses his torso, giving the air of frustration as an unconscious cover for the fact that he is actually clutching his ribs in pain. 

_Yep. Here it comes._

"Tim." Batman warns. In the echo of his voice Tim can hear him saying "Robin" and he stubbornly clamps down on the instinct to stand at attention. He is not Robin anymore, he reminds himself. He is Red Robin now— and somehow is still trying to take care of Batman. He glares back up at Bruce as he continues. "Do as I say, not as I do." 

_There it is. The Dad-quote of the year._ He doesn't know whether to snort or sigh so he settles for rolling his eyes and forcing the tension out of his limbs as he turnes to walk back to his work at the Batcomputer. There was no more point to the conversation anyway. After all, Alfred had told them both to clean up and get some rest. So that was what he was going to do. He listens to Alfred. Bruce listens to Alfred. _Everyone_ listens to Alfred. It's their truce on the matter. Truce. Bruce-Truce. His breath hitches in an aborted half laugh. The need for sleep seems more apparent to him the longer he hears himself think. 

He piles up the case files into his fabric bin labeled 'current work', his organizational pattern one that only he could understand. With the Batcomputer already in sleep mode, he gathers the rest of his things to drop onto his own personal workbench—for once clear of the deconstructed gadgets that he likes to improve. Improve— not tinker with, or fiddle with, or _play_ with, as his brothers like to tease. _Improve._

He glances around the cave and the final bit of extra tension seems to ease out of his frame. The training equipment had already been put away, though the mats looked like they could still use a good wipe down. The pieces of suit and armor that previously littered the walkways had been gathered into a basket to be cleaned and fixed the next day, though the droplets of blood still marred the floor. He can hear the water running and decides to mop up while waiting to see if Bruce needs any help bandaging up his wound. 

A half hour later finds them making their way to the kitchen, a quiet journey following the complete silence of stitching a gash and wrapping ribs. Trudging through the house, exhaustion begins to settle in on the two, hunger following close behind. 

As much as Tim loves every meal of Alfred's that he has ever tasted, he guiltily thinks that all he really wants right now is just a couple of plain peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. With a yawn and sigh, he rounds the corner into the kitchen, resigning himself to eating something healthy, and balanced, and probably stupidly delicious— 

The fluorescent lights flicker on with a buzz and what he sees makes him stop, staring dumbly at the kitchen island in front of him. He vaguely notices Bruce similarly coming to a stop beside him. They share a glance before the lack of sleep hits Tim like a (Bat)train. He starts to laugh, a little hysterical and completely uncontrollable, and Bruce joins him with a snicker— the way laughter is shared between best friends at 2 a.m. when nothing makes sense and everything is a bit hazy. Their laughter melts into chuckles as they sit down to eat — bringing peanut butter and jelly, and peanut butter and banana sandwiches to their mouths, knowing that the other had been thinking the same thing. 

"Our minds, one and together." Bruce says around a mouthful. 

Tim snorts into his milk. 

"Do you think Alfred is actually a Martian in disguise, and can read our minds like J'onn?" Tim asks in a conspiratorial tone. 

"Y'know," Bruce responds in kind, "With everything he knows, I wouldn't be surprised. You wanna ask him tomorrow morning?" 

"No way! You ask him!" 

"If he really can read minds," Bruce muses, "We won't _need_ to ask him." 

Sharing large grins, they rinse off their dishes in the sink and head upstairs to go to bed. 

As they reach the top of the stairs, Bruce pulls Tim close in a one-armed hug and drops a kiss on the top of his head. 

"Good night, Tim." he says warmly. 

Tim blinks up at him sleepily with a small but genuine smile gently forming. He looks years younger and the smile twists Bruce's heart with bittersweet memories of Tim's early days as Robin. 

"G'night, Dad." Tim murmurs. 

They part ways there, heading in separate directions but with the same thought in mind.  
_ I think I may actually get some sleep tonight._

Across the house Alfred turns off his lamp, finally able to sleep knowing his boys are warm and well fed. Safe and sound. 

**Author's Note:**

> So the "Do as I say not as I do"-Dad line for Bruce is an idea that I've had for a while but it takes me forever to actually do stuff. 
> 
> Shout out to Lurkinglurkerwholurks who said yeah go write this story!  
Thanks! It's now a gift to you! Accept my meager offering.  
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧  
(I have no internal motivation so that helped a lot, lol. )
> 
> This did not turn out the way that I meant it to at all! But I enjoyed writing it and am proud of it so who cares! I have more plot bunnies for this tho, that will hopefully come to fruition... But I can't promise anything. (╥﹏╥)  
(For example: the batkids totally mock Bruce for this line. Does he have a mug with this phrase on it? Totally. He likes to use it when he is drinking an amount of coffee that day that could kill a man.)
> 
> I edited this at like 3am so forgive any stupid errors or tell me in the comments, so I can fix it. thx! (I should not be up this late/early. I'm going to regret this tomorrow. BUT I WAS EXCITED!!)
> 
> So in this one shot at least, Tim trusts actions rather than words. Something I think they all do, but for Tim it's because of his parents especially. Leaving on long trips and promising to be back soon but constantly breaking that promise. Saying they love him but not showing it, etc. So while you read Bruce praise him here, many times that isn't enough to convince Tim. Also, while Tim is really good at reading Bruce, his own self-view causes him to doubt/be blind to the sincerity that Bruce shows in being proud of him, or what Tim is specifically looking for here: a look of approval. Anyhow that's my take on it for this ficlet.
> 
> "Hn." Is a universal Bruce-Batman noise. It is truth, you cannot change it.
> 
> And yes. I'm using fannon-coffee-addict-Tim-Drake. I can't help it! I love it! If you don't, you can meet me behind your local Denny's at 2am...  
...  
...  
And we can go in and discuss our differing opinions over coffee and questionable amounts of sugar like reasonable adults!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!!  
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3


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